


Sunrise

by lauawill, msdisdain



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauawill/pseuds/lauawill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdisdain/pseuds/msdisdain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sunrise leads to a new beginning, and a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Like all of the other Voyager stories written by either "Laura W" or "Melissa B" (or, for that matter, the vanished-from-fandom Jen Ferris), this was written and originally posted long ago and far away._
> 
> _Original Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Paramount. We're nicer to them,  
>  but we'll give them back anyway. After the story._
> 
> _Original Author's Note (Laura W): I wrote the opening section of "Sunrise" several  
>  years ago, with no real thoughts about how I wanted it to end. As time passed  
> I felt less and less connection with the story, and so had no qualms about  
> giving it away to JetC12 to finish. I never imagined the story Jen and Melissa  
> would come up with could be so lovely and touching. Huge thanks to them both  
> for taking my clunky opening and turning it into something beautiful._
> 
> _Original Author's Note (Melissa): Jen and I were hard pressed to match the lovely  
>  lightness of Laura's opening. We wrote our bits and rewrote so often I don't  
> know what belongs to who anymore...but we offer it up for your reading  
> enjoyment. Thanks to Laura for trusting us with it._

"Kathryn?" 

She struggled up through layers of sleep, unwillingly. 

"Are you awake?" 

It was easier back on the ship; a voice in her ear urging her to wake up meant a crisis was brewing somewhere, and so she'd better snap to it. But here, where crisis usually meant nothing more serious than a lack of fresh fruit for breakfast, it was harder to force herself to full wakefulness. 

"Wake up, Kathryn..." The voice itself didn't help, either, soft, hesitant, a little earnest, but not enough to startle her awake. _He'd have better luck,_ she mused, _if he were a bit more forceful._ Stamp his booted feet, or maybe walk to the bed and shake her shoulder. But that voice -- low and intense, whisper-soft. So quiet she could almost pretend she hadn't heard, and go back to sleep. 

"Kathryn..." 

With a sigh she opened her eyes. Blinked once, twice, a frown crossing Her features. "What the hell time is it?" She strained her eyes until she could see him silhouetted in the faint light from the half-open door. 

"An hour before sunrise." He shifted from foot to foot and the floor creaked beneath him, an eerie sound in the darkness. "It's stopped raining." 

"It has?" She raised herself on her elbows and peered out the window. A light mist clung to the ground and she could see last night's rain still glistening on the bushes and leaves, but no new rain fell. She closed her eyes and heard, for the first time in days, the stirrings of birds in the treetops instead of the pounding of rain on the roof. "So quiet," she whispered, unwilling to disturb the pre-dawn hush. 

"I know -- that's what woke me up. The silence." 

She turned back to him and wondered if he could see her smile in the dimness. "So you thought it was only fair to wake me, too?" 

His smile was unmistakable. "Something like that." 

"How very thoughtful of you." 

"Actually," he said, leaning casually against the partition, "I'm going to watch the sunrise. Would you like to come?" 

She threw off the blanket and slipped to her feet. "Give me five minutes to get dressed." 

He nodded once and withdrew from her alcove. 

Without turning on a light she pulled on trousers and boots, shouldered into a relatively dry sweatshirt. She reached for a brush but decided against taking the time to tidy her hair. Better to just pull it into a ponytail and be done with it, since there were precious few moments left before the sun would rise over the eastern horizon. She grabbed a waterproof jacket as an afterthought -- likely Chakotay would lead her on a short hike through the woods, and there was bound to be some dampness still dripping from the trees. 

When she emerged from her alcove she found him perched on the edge of the table, arms folded across his chest, waiting for her. He appraised her from head to foot; she saw his eyes linger on the ponytail, a small frown crossing his face. She noted for the hundredth time how easy it was to read him here, wondered if his emotions were clear to her because she had become more adept at deciphering his expressions, or because he felt less need to hide his feelings. 

"Ready?" he asked. 

"Ready." 

He reached behind him and handed her his blanket, taken from his bed and folded neatly. "To sit on," he explained. 

"It'll get wet." 

"It'll dry." 

Again he reached back, this time shrugging himself into his knapsack while she stuffed the blanket into her own. 

She nodded toward his bulging knapsack. "What's that?" 

"Breakfast." 

She smiled to herself, suspecting hunger had roused him from his bed as much as the sudden silence of the first morning in a week without rain. Often she had heard him in the middle of the night, prowling from his alcove to the kitchen in search of food; often the smell of something wonderful being prepared had lured her from her bed as well, led her to him and to the sharing of a late-night snack. 

His knapsack comfortably secured, he turned and headed out of the shelter, his footsteps light and even. She followed, closing the door softly behind her. 

The air was still heavy and damp with many days' rain, but overhead she could see stars among the last thin wisps of clouds. _A pretty day in the making,_ she thought, like a warm spring day on Earth. The sky to the east was brightening by the moment, obscuring the stars even as she watched. 

"How far are we going?" she asked. "The sun -- " 

"Not far. We have a little time." He held a branch aside for her so that she wouldn't be showered with raindrops. "I know the perfect place." 

"I'm sure you do," she said dryly, shaking her head with amusement, even affection, when his steps turned into the deepest part of the forest. 

_So predictable,_ she thought. Sometimes he was so predictable that she Could anticipate his words, his reactions, his every movement. Occasionally he could take her by surprise -- by stealing a shuttlecraft or presenting her with a handmade gift or telling her an old legend. But often his actions followed a pattern, one composed of equal parts courage and loyalty, integrity and respect. And lately she'd discovered more -- quirky humor, joy in the simplicity of their life on the planet, quiet awe at the beauty of their surroundings. Serenity, gentleness, warmth -- 

She was so absorbed in thinking of him in the abstract that she was not prepared to contend with his physical reality. She slammed into his back and stumbled on the mossy underbrush, still slippery with rain. 

"What is it?" 

"Shhhhh. Look." He reached back and touched her arm, grasped her fingers and pulled her forward beside him. At first she could not see whatever it was he pointed at, but then her eyes seized on the slight movement in front of them. 

There were two of them, ash-colored creatures with long necks and spindly legs, grazing in the clearing less than three meters away. Their movement was uncannily familiar to her, and brought back memories of camping trips with her family. 

"They look like deer," she whispered. The larger one turned doe-eyes toward them, its sharp ears twitching forward at the sound of her voice. Kathryn caught her breath, not wanting to frighten the creatures away. Soon the animal blinked and shook its head a little in a very human gesture, and went back to its grazing. Kathryn suppressed a giggle. 

Chakotay squeezed her fingers lightly and she turned to him, catching his smile. He pointed with his chin and she followed his gaze. "The little one's going to foal soon," he murmured. 

Indeed, the smaller creature moved heavily through the underbrush and over the rocks and fallen logs. The larger one, her mate, Kathryn realized, looked back at her from time to time, waiting for her to catch up to him. Kathryn knew she was impressing human values and behaviors on the creatures, but she nevertheless found the animals' concern for each other touching. 

Chakotay gently pulled her forward. "Maybe we can get a little closer." 

They moved through the underbrush until the creatures became nervous. The smaller one lifted her head to sniff the air, inhaled once and bolted into the forest, her mate following close behind. 

Chakotay sighed and straightened. "Our scent must be very unfamiliar to them," he said, a little regretfully. 

"Maybe we'll see them again." 

"Maybe. We'll have to watch for them." 

He shifted the knapsack on his back and looked up at the sky. "Not long now. Come on." He gave her hand another small squeeze and started off into the forest again. Held her hand in his for a long time, until the trees grew too close together for them to walk side by side. 

. . . 

"Are you all right?" 

"What?" Kathryn's head jerked up to meet the startled eyes of her First Officer, and then back down to their clasped hands. She stared at their joined fingers for several seconds before letting go, unable to believe she'd reached out for him in the first place. And marveling for the first time in years how well they fit together. Her heart was pounding and she looked away quickly, wishing he wouldn't ask again. Especially since she had no answers for the obvious questions. 

"Are you all right?" he repeated. _Good old predictable Chakotay,_ she thought, knowing she was being unfair. _If you were walking through the woods looking for edible vegetation with your superior officer and they reached out and grabbed your hand, you'd be pretty damn surprised too, Kathryn,_ she chided herself. _You can't blame him for wondering._

"I--" She opened her mouth, prepared to utter any of a hundred possible excuses, and then closed it again. She turned her head sideways, watching the water drip off the trees, and then up, feeling the morning sun's warmth on her face. This place was heavy with memories it did not hold. It was nearly identical in terrain, in climate, in vegetation to the planet she did not allow herself to think of very often. New Earth. 

It was only a strange twist of fate that they had beamed down, here, just after sunrise, when the earth was heavy with the previous day's rainfall. Only a strange twist of fate that she had split the group into sections and that the rest of their unit, Delly Goldschmidt and Tom Cartwright, had wandered off into another part of the woods, leaving their Captain and Commander to walk alone. 

_No._

Somewhere in the middle of her memory, the Captain had walked away too. 

It had been Kathryn that had reached out for Chakotay's hand, and Kathryn was someone neither had seen in a very long time. She looked back at Chakotay, waiting patiently next to her, curiosity and mild concern mingling in his gaze. 

"I wonder if there are any deer here," she said quietly. 

It only took seconds for the grin to light his face in shared recollection. "There aren't any apples for you to feed them this time." 

"Those were _my_ apples, Chakotay. I had every right to share them with whoever I wanted." 

"Whomever, Kathryn," he laughed. "You could have shared one with me." 

"I shared everything else," she said, and they both froze. 

The words were already spoken. They couldn't be banished as quickly as the actions, the memories had been. 

. . . 

"I'm so glad you woke me up," she said softly. 

"You didn't look very glad when you first opened your eyes." She could feel his grin as much as hear it, even though he sat just behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the way it curved his cheeks, before turning her head slightly to see. 

"I was up late." 

"I told you the coffee would get to you sooner or later." 

"Wasn't the coffee. I had some disturbing dreams." 

His eyes darkened a little, knowingly. "They're fine, Kathryn." 

"I know." Her chest rose and fell, heavily, once. "But I can't shut off two years of worrying about them. Not yet. Not completely." 

She looked away, and jumped slightly when his hands curved around her shoulders gently. Chakotay sat, motionless, waiting for her to react, expecting that she would pull away. Almost imperceptibly, she moved closer to him, and he slipped behind her, pulling her back to settle against his chest. Her head fell back against his neck, and her hair tickled at his nose. He brought one hand up to move it away and she caught it, held it to her. 

Rose and gold streaked across the sky. 

. . . 

"I'm sorry," she finally said. At his questioning eyebrow, she continued, "I'm sorry--for forgetting." 

"You didn't forget, Kathryn," his voice was very quiet. "You set it aside." 

"Chakotay, I--" 

He held up a hand. "It's not a criticism. I can't fault you for being who you are, on the ship." This time it was Chakotay who looked away. "I just wish there had been room for the sunrises, too. Regret shadowed his profile as he stared off into the trees. "They were beautiful." 

Kathryn swallowed, words fighting to release themselves, choking each other against her throat. She would have caught the actual meaning of his words even if she hadn't known him as well as she did, even if she was incapable of reading his every expression, his every gesture. He had always been the open one in the pair. 

Pair. 

How long had it been since she had thought of them that way? Leaders of a team, certainly, heads of a family. But there were always others around, always voices to be heard besides their own. It had been a long time since she had allowed the realization to surface. The realization that they were matched, in many ways. Kathryn and Chakotay. Captain and Commander. Friends, and long ago... 

A pair. 

"They were beautiful," she heard herself agreeing. Slowly, Chakotay turned back towards her, and she held her breath, waiting for his response. 

Disappointment slid into her stomach as he just nodded, looking down at her, his expression masked. She didn't know what she expected him to do--she had spent two years rebuffing any attempt he made to get close to her, letting him in for weeks at a time and then pushing him away again. There had been a time when she thought their friendship would not survive their difference of opinion over the Borg. There were still moments when she thought their separate thoughts about Seven would always drive a wedge between them. Did she expect him to open himself again, just because she had gotten wrapped up in a memory she had forbidden either of them to talk about? 

Here, in the dawning of this planet's day, it seemed easy enough to return to those feelings. It would be simple, really, to take his hand again, to talk about the rest of that day. And the weeks that had followed.. To let him talk about them, more importantly. To welcome Kathryn and Chakotay back into both of their lives. 

Kathryn had been left behind, long ago. 

. . . 

The sun was halfway up the sky when she woke. Chakotay was still behind her, his hands clasped loosely around her waist. He was leaning against the tree that had sheltered them. They'd both fallen back to sleep, lulled by the beauty that surrounded them here. 

She marveled at how lucky they were. To be stranded, alone, on a lonely planet in the Delta Quadrant...it could have been desolate and wrenching. But it wasn't. It was beautiful. Kathryn stirred slightly, snuggling back into Chakotay's arms. Letting herself relax, though it went against her very nature. They'd been here for over two months. He had asked nothing of her, except to share her days. She couldn't seem to let go of her tensions, her worries. Her captaincy. It didn't exist any more. 

But she couldn't let go. Couldn't manage, quite, to live in the now. 

Chakotay had that gift. To embrace his life: to accept what is. Kathryn wasn't as good at it. His gift to her, this very morning...she'd asked him about it, while they sat, watching the sun. "How did you know I wouldn't be angry?" 

"At waking you up? I didn't." 

"But you did it anyway." 

"I wanted to share this with you," he said simply. 

"Do you know how long it's been since I just...enjoyed a sunrise? Just because it _was_. No agenda, no demands, no responsibilities." 

"I can guess," Chakotay murmured into her hair. "Even now. Even here. You don't...let go," he said carefully. 

She twisted, to look up into his face. Then slid back into his embrace, cradled against his chest, both of them watching the sun as it rose, gently, above the line of trees. His words, cautiously chosen, still sounded accusing to her. "I can't change who I am." 

"No." She could feel him shake his head. "And you shouldn't. I would never want that. I just..." Again the denial, and the hesitation. 

She squeezed his hands, folded loosely over her. "I've never had time. There has _always_ been an agenda." 

"Self-created." A wry smile in his voice. 

"Perhaps." She leaned back against him, enjoying the solid warmth he offered. "There's always been something I needed to do. The next thing, and the next. I'm not good at...just letting be." 

"Ah, Kathryn..." she could feel him smiling. "Maybe there's something I can teach you after all." 

"Maybe." He could hear her smile, too. "Then do it." 

"What?" 

"Teach me." Her 'red alert' voice. If she were standing, her hands would be on her hips. Captain mode. 

His laughter broke out. "Gods...this woman! Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." He lifted her shoulders, turned her to face him. "Lesson number one." 

Indulgent, Kathryn waited. Chakotay sighed. "All right. Close your eyes." 

"What?" she lifted an eyebrow dubiously. 

"Trust me," he said. 

"Okay," she nodded, and closed her eyes obediently. He reached out, brushing his fingers over her cheekbones, her eyelids. "Now." He settled himself more comfortably against the tree, lifting her slightly with him, settling her once again to rest with her back against his chest. "You're not cheating, are you?" 

"I never cheat." 

"I know." A gentle undercurrent warmed his voice. "Are you comfortable?" 

"So far." She rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. 

"Good." His voice was low and she felt it, rather than heard it. "Keep your eyes closed." 

"Um hmm." 

"Feel the sun on your face." He brushed her hair back with his fingers. Concentrating as she was on senses other the visual, his touch was sensual and disturbing. "Let it bathe your skin. It's a gift, if you decide to accept it." 

One level of her mind watched them both, analyzing. Was he speaking of the sun, or of more? _Stop it,_ she told herself. _He's showing you something. He's sharing something. Accept it._

"Think of it," he whispered. "Every sunrise is a new beginning. A chance to start again, once each day. A gift from a star, millions of miles from here. For you to accept." 

Kathryn stirred, rolling her head against his shoulder, eyes still closed. 

"Take a deep breath. Again. Don't pay attention to me, don't pay attention to anything. Don't _pay_. Just breathe. Feel the sun on your face, the air in your lungs, the scent on the breeze." 

Impressions assaulted her, as she eased herself, trying to listen, trying not to analyze. It was against her nature. 

"No, it's not," he answered the thought she had not spoken. "It's not unscientific. It's not useless. It is. This _is_." He squeezed her hand briefly, then brought it down to the leaves, urged her to pick one up. 

"Breathe," he urged her. "Absorb what _is_." 

"I..." 

He held up one hand, asking her to wait. "Let me finish. I'm not being _profound_ here. I'm not urging you to overcome anything. I just ask you to...learn to see. To... _be_ , Kathryn." 

They sat quietly, absorbing the early rays of the sun, both of them with faces turned upward, she resting in his arms. Finally Chakotay shifted. "Kathryn. Shh, don't speak," he said, whispering. "Turn slowly. Look." There, nestled against the trees less than two meters away, stood the doe-like creature and her mate. 

The four of them, humans and four-legged mammals of this planet, regarded each other gently, testing, surveying each other. Chakotay's arms tightened around Kathryn, but he did not speak. 

Finally, obeying some impulse the humans didn't recognize, the little mammalian creatures shook themselves, trotting away without a backward glance. "Oh," Kathryn breathed. 

"Hmm?" 

"They didn't object, this time," she smiled. "They weren't afraid. I wish I..." 

"What?" 

"Nothing." Sighing, she stretched and stood up. "Nothing." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Tell me what's wrong, Kathryn."

Chakotay's voice, swimming through the memory that had clouded her mind. _Damn it._ How long had she been standing there, staring off into the trees, wrapped up in a vision she thought she'd left behind her? She blinked and her eyes refocused on her first officer, on his face, curious and maybe a little guarded.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm...just a little distracted." Kathryn shrugged, offering both of them an easy way out.

"I noticed," he said easily. She looked guiltily at him out of the corner of her eye. Chakotay smiled, and let his eyes wander to the lush trees, the young plantlings underfoot, the misty impression of a small rise in the distance. The scene was familiar.

 _Too familiar._ "I noticed," he said again, with little emotion, answering the thought she had not spoken.

She nodded without speaking, and picked up her tricorder. Chakotay moved softly beside her, stopping only to examine some tubers protruding from the soil, a lemon-grasslike shoot, some berries that she pointed out to him. _Damn him, _she thought. Here she was, thinking sentimentally of the planet they'd left behind so long ago, and here he was. Politely ignoring her distraction.__

The role she usually played in their little drama. Or comedy, depending on how you looked at it.

She stopped on the path and turned to him.

"Now you're being kind," she said.

"Kathryn?"

"You're very generous," she said, repeating something she'd said long ago.

"No." he answered her. "I'm not."

And those were his words from long ago, too. Only his eyes betrayed how much he meant it.

. . .

Yes. Their whole lives. She knew she had to face that. She couldn't, quite. Not yet.

Chakotay seemed to understand her reluctance. They hadn't discussed it, not really. Occasionally, reluctantly, she would tell him of the dreams that plagued her. He would murmur some small response, understanding, not expecting her to let go so soon. If at all.

The pull of the planet was strong. New Earth, they called it. New life. Their new life. But she hadn't come to it by choice. Neither of them could evade that knowledge. If she could have anything she wanted, it would not be here. Not this way.

They'd talked about it once, in a way. In frustration, she'd asked him how he could be so accepting.

He'd cocked his head at her, thoughtfully. Looked off into the distance, as if measuring what he should say. Then shrugged, and smiled a little, at his own reticence. "I've spent a lifetime learning to accept what is, you know. Dorvan taught me that. My frustration with Starfleet taught me that. The Maquis...most of all."

"I suppose so."

"And--in a way, this..." he looked around at their compound, the garden he was creating, the tomatoes she'd finally planted. The building he had begun. "In a way, this is what I've always wanted."

She found she was surprised. "I'm not sure how you mean that."

"Oh, this isn't how I'd have chosen to find it. Not in exile. But...a home. Good land. The possibility of peace, of growth. A...settling, that I've never really had. A woman to share it with." He met her gaze evenly.

Kathryn flushed. "'A woman'?"

He shook his head. "Don't ask me to say something you're not ready to hear. Or are you?"

She had to meet his honesty with her own. "I don't know, Chakotay. It would be so easy to..." She didn't finish the thought. "Can you understand? I feel like accepting this would be...giving in. Giving up."

He'd just watched her, giving nothing away. She shook her head in frustration. "If I...if we...don't you see, I don't want to wake up a year from now and find myself resenting you, resenting what you've made me forget. You deserve better than that. How can I--" she whirled away from him, almost in desperation. How to make him see that it wasn't him that was the problem. It was her.

A soft movement behind her. Chakotay touched her shoulders, not turning her. Standing there, close behind her, his hands warm and heavy. Stroking from her shoulder to her neck, his lips touching her hair. "Don't. Don't worry so. I don't want you to come to me out of necessity, or boredom, or because you feel you owe me. You don't owe me anything, Kathryn. Except to be yourself. That's all I ask."

She turned to him then, her eyes searching his. "You're very generous."

"No." He smiled down at her in the dim light. "I'm not."

"Funny. It looks that way to me."

He shook his head gently. "No. I'm very selfish. If you should decide to come to me...that's not an expectation you're supposed to fulfill. I'm not an obligation, Kathryn. Only if you decide that's what you want. Any other reason would be wrong."

She'd wrapped her arms around him then, just resting against him. "I feel so full of fog. So full of anger."

Murmuring into her hair, his embrace light, he whispered. "Shhh. It's all right. Let go of your fear, Kathryn. We don't have to hurry. We have all the time in the world."

. . .

She was speechless, staring at him. Chakotay bore her scrutiny well. His eyes gave...nothing back. No hint of the hope she had sometimes seen in him. No hint of the frustration she must have caused so many times. No hint of the determination that straightened his shoulders, that curved his mouth in the faintest of smiles.

It was funny, almost. She knew the crew thought of her as strong, and determined, and goal-oriented. If they only realized. His determination, unbroken, filled the air between them.

Still unspoken. After all this time.

There were words, words they both needed. Even after all this time, she had not let go of her fear. It warred, once again, with his determination. And she opened her mouth.

And then Goldschmidt and Cartwright came trotting through the underbrush, cheeks flushed and laughing slightly as they ran, youth and enthusiasm in their faces. Kathryn closed her eyes for an instant and sighed, before she turned to them.

"It's a good morning, then," she smiled professionally.

She watched Chakotay, out of the corner of her eye, as she turned to help them with the samples they'd found. He knelt in the grass, a small apple-like fruit held lightly in his hand. "Captain?" And he tossed the fruit to her.

As she caught it he straightened and stood, brushing off his hands. Watching her.

He had thrown her more than fruit, and they both knew it. Her hands curved around the skin for a moment, before she walked over and put it in her knapsack. Turning, she met his eyes evenly.

"Thank you, Commander. I'll save it for later."

The flash in his eyes came and went too quickly for her to judge its meaning. He nodded, silently.

They bent back to their work.

. . .

They'd gone about their tasks, then. Chakotay headed out to the clearing he'd made, to the work he wouldn't tell her about. 'It's a surprise,' he had said. Kathryn returned to her experiments. She labored determinedly. She had to know she'd exhausted every possibility, examined every avenue in her search for a cure. It was even possible, if she found an answer soon, that they'd still be able to return to the ship. Oh, she knew how unlikely that was. But it wasn't impossible. She couldn't let go of that thought.

And balanced against her search, her determination, was the balm of Chakotay's presence. They worked at their own jobs, separately, or together, in harmony. She was studying every night. Trying to learn everything they might need to know, if they stayed here, about botany, agriculture. Cataloging each new species she found. He'd laughed at her, a bit. "You don't have to file a report."

Defiantly, she threw that back at him. "I might. We don't know. Every bit of data I can gather might be our answer."

"And if you find it? Kathryn..."

"I can't let it go, Chakotay. Not until there's no hope."

He shoved away from the table. "I know." His face shuttered, he'd gone outside, letting the door slam behind him.

She waited for him to come back. After half an hour, when he didn't return, she went to find him. He was near the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree, his fists clenched. "Chakotay?"

He lifted his head, half turning to her. He didn't answer. She approached him quietly. "What?"

"It's nothing."

"No. Tell me."

Something in her tone, the captain's voice perhaps, reached him. He took a deep breath. "The death of your hope. That's what I'll be, to you."

"Oh, god. No, Chakotay. Don't ever think that." Shaken, she reached up to him, her hand caressing his cheek. "Sometimes...sometimes I dream. You know that. And it's frightening to wake up here, remembering." Her hand stilled, near his mouth. "Seeing you when I wake is the only thing that makes me feel better. The only thing that makes it okay."

Wordlessly, he took her hand, kissing her fingers. A small sigh escaped him and he pressed her hand against his chest. She could feel his heart beating, strong and reassuring. After a moment he looked up at the night sky, then back down at her. "It's late. We should turn in."

"Why?" She smiled at him. "We don't have to report for duty. Let's...I don't know. Let's go for a walk."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"All right." He went back into the shelter and brought parkas for them both. They wandered slowly through the forest, barely speaking, watching the earth sleeping around them. Trying to be quiet, to not disturb the harmony too much. Chakotay held her hand in his, a warm connection in the night. They didn't hurry.

'We have all the time in the world', he'd said.

But of course they didn't.

. . .

She woke suddenly, opening her eyes to the familiar blackness of her bedroom. She lay nestled amongst the blankets for several minutes, eyes fixed on the ceiling, conscious of her own breathing but not much else. She turned her head and looked at the chronometer on the wall, and took a deep breath. It was time.

Pushing the covers aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, reaching both arms over her head in a leisurely stretch. She called for lights as she walked a little sleepily into the bathroom to brush her teeth. A quick glance in the mirror had her running her hands through her hair, untangling the messy bits, restoring some semblance of order to it. Quickly she dressed, warm pants and shirt with a jacket over top, sturdy shoes. She grabbed a blanket from her sofa on the way by it and the bag she had packed the night before, and exited her quarters.

"Computer, open door 24 beta, authorization Janeway omega three."

Silently, the door to Chakotay's quarters slid open.

She stepped inside, trying to move quietly, and set the bag and blanket down on the floor next to the door. She'd never been in his quarters in the dark, and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light before walking carefully to the door of his bedroom. He was sleeping with his face shoved into the pillow, one hand outstretched and dangling over the side of the bed. She smiled, walking to the side of the bed and watching him. She reached out two fingers and tapped the back of his hand softly.

"Chakotay?"

Nothing. She tried again, a little louder, and then shook her head. She wondered how he could sleep so soundly. "Chakotay." She shook his shoulder gently, and then a little more forcefully. Eventually she was rewarded by a sleepy groan. "Chakotay? Are you awake?"

Several seconds passed before she heard, "Do I look awake, Kathryn?" Muffled. Sleepy. A tinge of annoyance mingled with a hint of laughter behind it. "Go away. I'm not on duty today."

"Well, Voyager's under attack and I'm going to surrender the ship; I just wanted to see if you minded."

He turned his head towards her, opened his eyes, and studied her for a second, one eyebrow quirking curiously. "You're in a good mood this morning," he observed, yawning.

"If I was grumpy, you wouldn't want to come watch the sunrise with me." Her light tone belied the serious expression in her eyes.

He blinked twice, and his eyes softened. "I always want to watch the sunrise with you." He reached out to shove the blankets aside. "Give me a minute and I'll get dressed."

She nodded, backing up and out of the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

.

Maybe it wasn't exactly like New Earth. The gravity was heavier here, the air a little colder. Kathryn was glad she'd brought her jacket. Chakotay had settled for a heavy sweater over his turtleneck. As he'd reminded her, he wasn't on duty today.

And neither was she. Not this morning. Later, perhaps. But not now.

She led the way, this time, taking them from yesterday's beam-down point to the little glen she'd seen off in the distance. The waking murmur of tiny creatures saturated the air, and this planet's dew was fresh and strong. The sun wasn't quite up yet. Chakotay touched her shoulder gently as he followed her path. "Where are we going?"

 

She smiled at him, wondering if he'd remember. "Not far," she said. "We have a little time."

His eyes crinkled, promising a smile. Yes. He remembered.

She spread a Starfleet-issue blanket over the damp grass. It was waterproof, not like the blankets from their shelter. You can't recapture that, she reminded herself. _That's not why you're here._

They couldn't go back. That was the truth. There'd been too much between them, both good and bad. She settled herself on the ground, ignoring the trees around them. Not leaning back. Cross-legged, he sank down beside her. Kathryn pulled a carafe of coffee out of her pack.

Chakotay grinned. "You came prepared."

"Of course. I'm the captain," she said easily.

She pulled out two handleless cups. "I'll share with you," she offered.

He regarded her silently, and then said, "Yes. I can see that."

She filled the cup for him, watching him, so relaxed and comfortable while she... _to hell with that._ She stretched out, propping herself up on an elbow, her gaze somewhere between his face and the glimmer of dawn above the hill.

"It's been awhile," she finally said, her cup resting untouched beside her.

Chakotay said nothing, and she turned her face towards him fully. He was sitting, legs crossed, cup in his left hand. His face was turned slightly up to the sky, and she could see a muscle working at the base of his jaw. "Yes."

He was giving nothing. She could expect no more from him. Her mouth twisted, the words unable to fully form. They had to be the right ones. She could not find them. She turned her face away from him, eyes closing briefly, remembering his words from so long ago. _Be, Kathryn._

 _Be_ Kathryn.

Therein lay the answer, if she could set aside the fear and the indecision.

"Kathryn," he whispered, breaking her reverie. She looked up at him, and then in the direction of his pointing finger. Several yards ahead of them stood three creatures, small and sturdy on four legs, dark hair covering them from tiny tail to slender, tapered necks. They were of three sizes, and the middle one stood protectively close to the smallest, the larger hovering over both. They regarded the humans unblinkingly.

"Do you still have that apple?" Chakotay murmured, his eyes never moving from the little family before them.

Kathryn reached behind her, picking up the knapsack and reaching carefully inside. She drew out the small fruit and held it in both hands for a long moment.

"Chakotay." Something in her voice had him turning back to her. She reached out and took his hand, opening his fingers and pressing the fruit into them.

His breath caught as he stared at her, the animals forgotten, and slowly he reached out for her other hand. The sun came up with a glorious flourish, flinging her light over the hills. A new day.

A new beginning.

_FINIS_


End file.
